


Javier’s first Christmas

by TheWolfWithinMe



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Arthur/Javier drabbles, M/M, some fluff some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWithinMe/pseuds/TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: Just Christmas fluffI know it’s September but ehJavier/Arthur fluff





	Javier’s first Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on chapter 6 of RDR 2 and everything is painful as hell, so I’m going to write some cute little one shots and completely ignore canon (:
> 
> Also this rare pair has my heart :3

When Dutch brought Javier into the gang, he was a quiet thing. Skinny, distant, clearly been through some traumas. He followed Dutch around like a puppy, eyes downcast. 

One day, when Dutch and Hosea were out scouting for more opportunities, Javier was left alone. He sat by the fire, aimlessly prodding the flickering orange flames with a stick.

“Hey, friend.”

Javier jumped, fingers reaching for his gun in a blur. Boy was he fast. When he saw it was only Arthur, his hand dropped again, though he remained tense. 

“Sorry, amigo.” He mumbled quietly. 

“Nervous little thing, aren’t ya?” Arthur asked, sitting himself down beside the Mexican. “You don’t need t’be, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“It’s not you, brother. I’m sorry—just... the past.” 

Arthur waved off the apology. It wasn’t needed. 

“We all have our flaws, partner.” He watched Javier from the corner of his eye. “But what about ya strengths? What are ya proud of?”

Javier pondered this for a moment. 

“I guess... music. Used to play a guitar and be pretty, uh what’s the word... /decent/ at it.”

Arthur gave an encouraging smile. “This place could benefit from some music. If I have t’listen to the depressing shit Dutch plays for much longer, I may go crazy.” 

Even he had some taste.

“What happened t’your guitar?” 

Javier’s expression turned sad again. “It... it got destroyed... and I can’t afford another one.” 

Both men fell silent, eyes on the burning embers.

Arthur had a plan.

xox

It was Christmas morning. Hosea said he was too old for such a thing, but Dutch still roped him in and they decorated the wagons together, using sprigs of holly and brightly coloured berries.

A thick layer of snow blanketed the frosty ground, and none of the camp members could venture out too far without the risk of getting hit by a wayward snowball.

Javier sat by the campfire rubbing his freezing hands together, and watched as Arthur and John pelted each other with clumps of snow.

He didn’t understand how the men enjoyed it, the cold. It was a lot different to Mexico, that was for sure. But seeing the others happy made him happy as well. 

A rogue snowball hit Dutch in the back of the head. 

“ARTHUR!”

“It was Marston!”

Soon lunchtime rolled around and Pearson had three large turkeys prepared, each stuffed and covered in spices. They all sat down, Arthur and John still covered in snow, and enjoyed the feast. Javier picked at his food. He felt out of place in this family, like he didn’t belong.

Arthur nudged his shoulder. “I’ve got a present for ya later.”

He really hoped it wasn’t a snowball. 

xox

It was early evening now and the sun was slowly dipping beneath the horizon, leaving the sky a beautiful shade of orange. 

The gang were stuffed. They sat around the campfire, trading presents and laughing amongst themselves. John had gotten Arthur a new holster, made from a beautiful dark leather. A stag was engraved into the side, standing tall and proud. 

“Thank you, Marston, this is real kind of ya.” 

Arthur bought Hosea a fancy book. The plot went completely over his head but Hosea couldn’t put it down, then he handed John a new rifle before getting up and excusing himself. 

“I’ll be back in a minute. Keep the alcohol coming.”

Trudging through the fresh snow, he fetched a large package from his wagon. It was wrapped in brown paper, with a little note and a bow made of string. Arthur held the gift carefully and made his way back towards the gang, where he squeezed himself in between Dutch and Javier.

“Here, brother, this is for you.” 

Javier took the package with cautious hands, eyes wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually given him something. With a lump in his throat, he slowly unwrapped the paper.—his gaze falling on the most beautiful guitar he’d ever seen. 

“Arthur...” The words he wanted to say got lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth, so he settled on pulling the older man into a tight hug. “Thank you... so much.”

Arthur just grinned in response, happy that Javier liked it. 

Pulling back to admire the guitar once more, he stroked his fingers over the smooth wood. It felt expensive. On the neck of the instrument was his name—flawlessly engraved. It was perfect, the entire thing. He strummed one of the strings and sighed. This was his comfort zone. 

It was making him a bit emotional, actually. Setting the guitar down, he hastily rubbed the tears away and pounced on Arthur again, wanting to show the other outlaw his gratitude. 

“Happy Christmas, Escuella.” The older man replied warmly, secretly enjoying all this affection. 

Happy Christmas indeed.


End file.
